


To Come Up Smelling of Roses

by irrelevantindigo



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Frisk, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Genderless Frisk, Implied (Incomplete) Genocide Route, Older Frisk, Other, POV Frisk, POV Sans, POV Third Person Limited, Pacifist Route, Pre-Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrelevantindigo/pseuds/irrelevantindigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>If you were given a chance to restart after ruining everything, how would you face the world?<br/>Everyone wants to be the hero and the lover, but it's not that simple.<br/>Not everyone greets a new beginning enthusiastically, and not everyone believes in ‘forgive and forget’.</p><p>[A different take on Frisk's journey. Eventual FriskxSans. Alternating POVs. Constructive criticism & feedback appreciated.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stalemate Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> {And here we all are, trying to convince ourselves we are too different to be understood and better off alone. All while the world spins on, waiting patiently for someone to break— and then open up like a flower}

Frisk felt different.  
Maybe it was because they never cracked four foot eleven. Or maybe it was how they preferred to dress. However, it was a well known fact that Frisk never spoke; they had a striking lisp and an anxious stutter to match. It was only consequence that they would find themselves alone. So they waited, teetering on the edge of life, peering into the world from the outside, hoping for someone to invite them in.  
But nobody came.

* * *

* * *

 

It was the 7th of April when they quietly packed their things and slipped out from their bedroom window. The dusk cast milky purples onto the beige siding, like a projector revealing lost childhood reveries. Through this window Frisk once looked at the stars, finding company in their pinprick glows. As a child they had been scared of the dark and would often sitting upright in their bed, holding quiet conversations with the moon. Frisk wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Taking one last glance at the pasty dinted walls of their room, they repressed all feelings of guilt; this was not their home and they owed nothing to anyone. The people here weren’t even their real parents. Had Frisk been just a few years older, they could have started a life of their own. Had they been just a few years younger, maybe someone would still want to take them in. But this was Frisk now, and they had finally had enough of everything.

Lips pursed and eyes blinking slowly, Frisk stepped to the edge of the back porch roof and hopped down into the flowerbed. Dusting themself off, they snuck out the back gate toward mount Ebott. With the sapphire sky above them, the world felt different. With every step, they waded further into the undiscovered ocean of the night. The crisp scent of spring coiled in the breeze filled them with determination.

The mountainside shale beneath their feet made the beginning of the trek perilous and slow. Without warning, the brittle rocks would break loose and cause Frisk to slip every several steps. Beads of sweat made their long bangs damp and the air felt like fire in their lungs. Gradually, patches of moss and earth loosely entwined in tree roots began to appear. The lush quilts of lichens brought their scrapped knees down to the earth. Collapsing on the mountainside, sleep swiftly took Frisk in like the family they never had.

* * *

 

When they awoke, it was already early evening and the crickets had just begun their sonnet. The smell of pines and firs filled the air and the ground was cool from their shade. Scanning the terrain, they decided to make use of what daylight was left. The fallen pine needles crackled under Frisk’s feet as they stepped carefully over the undergrowth. As darkness poured itself over the earth, Frisk noticed a forgotten shed on a plateau a few miles ahead. This small shed leaned defiantly against a tree, while the house adjacent had already collapsed, weary of age and neglect. Frisk looked sympathetically at the fallen house. Perhaps at some point the house has been full of hope and determined, but left to rot it simply gave up, leaving the shed alone with just the tree on the valiant plateau. They hurried toward the shed, racing against the curtain of night.

Trembling with exhaustion, Frisk slowly reached out toward the shed. The twisted and peeling paint crackled under the soft pressure of their fingers, flaking small chips of paint onto the ground. Frisk then abruptly ran a closed fist forcefully from side to side, white chips falling freely in celebration of their arrival. They smiled down at the remains of their destructive festivities, and then stepped cautiously toward the entrance. With the lightest touch, the right door let out a hideous squeak, startling birds into flight from the tree. Light peeked into the stout forgotten building, illuminating only a wedge of the floor and wall. Frisk marveled at the scuffed wooden panels and light green trim. An old lantern was discarded to the side along with a bucket and half a rake propped up on some warped shelves. Frisk tilted their head and smirked; _homey_. They propped up the lantern, set their lighter beside it, and unrolled their various blankets. After lighting the room, they barred the double doors with the half rake and settled into their quilted nest. Frisk delicately twisted the knob on the lantern, dimming it until the flame was gone. With a sigh, they turned away from the lantern into the darkness.

* * *

 

Dawn spilled through the single square window. Peeking out of their blanket cocoon, and Frisk promptly concealed themself again. They had always been alone, but for some reason, being alone here allowed dark thoughts to seep into their consciousness. Frisk decided to themself, they needed rest; they could put the canned food on the shelf and change their clothes some other day. So they let their movements slow until it was just the drumming of their heart and the wind in the trees. _There would always be another day to live._

* * *

 

Frisk could have never lived forever in that shed, but April was a gentle, motherly time of year. Lighting the lantern one morning, they discovered it no longer had fuel. With a groan they emerged from their blankets, and promptly flopped themself down again. This was a rough world, but it felt as if the worst of it was over. They propped themselves upright again and slouched forward, eyes fixed the closed door. Maybe there was someone else who lived up here on this lonely mountain. Maybe she’d find them someday. Frisk finally peeled themself out of bed and propped opened the shed door. The faint morning light gently illuminated their tally on the wall. Frisk stood there, counting silently. The scratches totaled thirty; a whole month. The passage of time filled them with determination.

Wandering sleepily from the shed, Frisk went to go see if there were any wild berries left on the path to the creek; canned food was losing its charm. _Maybe there’s a chocolate tree._ Frisk giggled at the odd thought. Gazing dreamily at the sky, their body seemed to move at a rhythm of its own. It as if they were a puppet, guided. They stepped, one two, one two, one two. Frisk tilted their head back and slowly unfocused their eyes, allowing the world to become a haze of light and color. The unsynchronized morning birds transformed into a soft melody set to the rhythmic tune of the crunch of the earth under their brown lace up boots. Soon, the trees didn’t even look like trees, just green passing overhead. The orchestra of the mountain moved and vibrated, almost as if it had breath of its own. One two, one two, one two, one… and down, and down, and down.

* * *

 

Their neck hurt. Their ribs ached. Their head… laughed. Hands shaking, Frisk franticly rubbed their eyes and pinched themself. Little by little, the panic ebbed back into the haze. The strings pulled their weak limbs up, up out of the bed of golden flowers, toward some sort of unfinished business. It was so easy to just let puppeteer move their body, it felt natural, like it was meant to be. They were going to be partners, the master and the puppet. Together, they stepped easy through the dark cavern. One two, one two, one two. As they approached an irritatingly cheery flower, their teeth clasped on top of each other and an eerie smile smeared itself across their face.  
_It was good to be back. It was good to be home._


	2. The Worst Promise

Sans felt different.  
He was outwardly not unlike any other monster. His calm, laid back exterior made it easy to assume any number of things about Sans. Besides, why would anyone try to comprehend the usual happenings of the underground? It was so much simpler for everyone to brush off the déjà vu and press on— it _always_ seemed so easy for everyone else to press on. It was only consequence all his hypothesizing and over-thinking would isolate Sans. He often found himself looking through the same old crowd, scanning each familiar face, waiting for someone else to step forward— someone else trying to understand.  
But nobody came.

* * *

* * *

 

"GET UP YOU LAZYBONES.” Papyrus hollered.

Sans opened his eyes with reluctance. There was no conceivable way it was morning again. However to Sans’ dissatisfaction, it was. Papyrus could be heard downstairs in the kitchen clanging around, concocting some form of pasta. Sans stared blankly at the burgundy walls of his bedroom a while before pulling himself over to the edge of his mattress. Reaching out into the tornado, he snatched a calendar out of the whirling garbage. May 13th had been crossed off, so it had to be May 14th. It felt more like June to Sans, but he didn’t want to pay attention to that. Sliding on his slippers, he shuffled down the crooked stairs and into the kitchen.

“BROTHER YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST THOUGHT OF.” Sans looked over onto the counter where two questionable plates of pasta stood, one covered in ketchup. Thoughtful.

“I RECALLED HOW MUCH YOU LIKED THE PASTY BOTTLED TOMATO SAUCE AND HAVE USED IT TO CREATE A SPECTACULAR NEW DISH.” Papyrus said, beaming.

“nice work bro.” It appeared Sans wasn’t having breakfast at Grillby’s today.

Papyrus set the two plates on the table beside the pet rock. As he went to sit down, he paused, staring in disbelief at the plain wooden table— they didn’t own any chairs. The two wordlessly resigned themselves to sitting on the lumpy green couch, a good second best. Papyrus began twirling the pasta passionately onto his fork while Sans just sort of… carelessly shoveled noodles onto the fork and slurped. Once they finished, Sans took both their plates back into the kitchen. Upon entering he was taken aback, eyes tracing the ever growing height of the sink. As Sans set the sauce smeared dishes on the counter he heard Papyrus impatiently cough from the entrance. With a contented sigh, Sans took his coat from the arm of the couch and tailed his brother out the door.

The early morning sky was dark, or maybe the sky was always dark. Snowdin’s familiar faces had yet to appear, giving it the unsettling feeling of a ghost town. Sans forced himself to admire the tree garnished in multicolored bulbs, attempting to snuff the eerie contemplation. No good. He blinked hard and moved closer to Papyrus. As they reached the bridge, Sans noticed what looked like a snowy tarp poorly concealing a canon, blow torch and a… dog? Papyrus hurriedly insisted Sans continue onward to his station. Shaking his head incredulously, Sans crossed the bridge.

* * *

 

He leaned against a tree, waiting for a knock from the lady behind the door. Scanning the uniform trees and bleak sky, Sans saw nothing out of place… nothing except the human slowly opening the large purple door. This human, so concerned with being spotted, didn’t notice Sans in the trees. Despite their effort, Sans had full view of the human— a familiar bob of hair set upon small, determined shoulders. Short. Cute. **Lethal**. The knock-knock jokes would have to wait; his hands would be full for a while.

He followed them, grumbling under his breath. Ever since Sans had made that promise, everything had felt off. Who knew how many times he’d seen this one: maybe this was the first time, maybe it was the hundredth time. There was no way to know. Sans slowly approached the human as they paused to slip through the gate. He couldn’t just be rude and continue to stalk the underground’s latest inhabitant.

“ **Human. Don't you know how to greet a new pal?** ”

Naturally, Sans wouldn’t pass up the chance to pull a prank. Holding a poker face, he moved his hand out of his pocket, practical joke carefully concealed. The whoopee cushion trick was one of those classic japes and personal favorite. Sans firmly outstretched his arm. This was gonna be good. The small fleshy hand met his without a hint of hesitation. _Pbbbbbbbbbt._ The human gave a brief, halfhearted smirk before resuming their blank stare. It just wasn’t right. This trick was at least eye-roll worthy— if you had eyes to roll. A shiver crawled down Sans’ spine.

“hilarious.” He remarked absentmindedly before continuing to introduce himself. They didn’t appear fazed by anything he had to say, but it was hard to tell since nothing seemed to stir up any expression on their face at all.

“now my brother papyrus… he’s a human hunting FANATIC.”

The small human’s expression appeared to falter ever so slightly. **Gotcha**. This human was guilty as charged, not that it really made a difference. Sans didn’t have the right to judge a book by its cover, even if it was a human-skin-bound book capable of complete and utter destruction.

Waiting for the human to respond, an idea began to take form in his skull. Glancing side to side with new mischief, Sans escorted his silent ‘new pal’ behind the oddly shaped lamp he’d found a few days ago. Sans hadn’t been recalibrating his puzzles, so it was only natural Papyrus would come find him eventually. Like clockwork, Papyrus could be seen moving hastily down the well worn path.

* * *

 

After some scolding from Papyrus and a few bad jokes, Sans called the human forward again. For someone who had just seen two skeletons, they looked anything but frightened. Sans watched their eyes trace the details of the moment, as if they were waiting for something to happen. Perhaps they expected the ground to crack open and the devil himself to give a welcome speech. But the snow laden trees didn’t quiver and the blank sky didn’t flinch. Nothing. Satisfied with the inertia of the forest, the small figure began to venture down the path. Hesitating for a moment, Sans called out to them.

“wait kid… i hate to bother ya, but my brother’s been down lately. see, he’s never seen a human before. and seeing you might just make his day.”

The human paused a moment in thought, and then gave a solemn nod. How curious.

‘thanks a million. don’t worry, i’ll be up ahead.”

Turning the opposite direction, he sauntered down the path. Shifting his gaze left and right cautiously, Sans slipped through the one of his many “shortcuts”; odd glitchy little blips he had found in the space time continuum. In the blink of an eye, he was a few feet from the fast-moving Papyrus. Taking a moment to shake off the static-feeling in his bones, Sans spotted a baggy blue sweater in the distance. With confidence in his stride, he moved toward the still-fuming sentry.

“hey. bro. what’s that over there.” Sans said brashly, gaze fixed down the road. A little skeptical, Papyrus turned to look. Perfect. If Sans could grin any harder, he would.

* * *

 

“well, that went well. don’t sweat it, kid. i’ll keep an eye socket out for ya.”

Papyrus had looked like he saw a comet sear across the night sky. Sans was grateful for the humans’ compliance, though they had done absolutely nothing but stand there. Which was probably for the best. Sans tilted his head back and allowed Papyrus’ delight to wash over him. There was always something good in every reset.

He trudged off again toward another shortcut. Completely alone in the forest, the trees seemed to ebb a more sinister energy. A sharp gust of winter air stole Sans’ second-hand bliss, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough to wake him from the never-ending nightmare. His mind began to race with questions: questions he wanted to ask his past self, questions he wanted to ask the human— if they were even human. The notion rattled his bones. As the thoughts quickened their pace, Sans’ breath became short, his steps slower. It was his job to capture humans, not watch over them. Sans had always kept a vigilant eye on the door from the ruins, anticipating the arrival of another lost soul. But now, with that pint-sized terror wandering around the underground, no monster was safe. He felt the blame plummet onto his shoulders.

Sans let out a long puff of breath into the chilled air and watched it float up into the bleak sky. Even if he found all the answers to these questions, would he remember it in a few days? Or even a few seconds? After another long puff, Sans stiffened his posture and hastened his stride; he wouldn’t let this get the best of him.  
Sans was determined to have last laugh.


	3. Inseparable Sins

No traces of life appeared in the bleak, hopeless blur of white. Frisk waded through the swirling snow, determined to find shelter. They instinctively pulled their sleeves over their hands to save them from the bitter cold, but… Frisk wasn’t cold at all. They paused, inquisitively crouching down in the snow. Scooping up a handful, they felt its dry grimy texture; it was dust. _It was all dust._  
The ground beneath them began to sink, the remains of dead monsters gradually enveloping them. Panic swept over Frisk as they struggled to grasp something— anything, but they were all alone. A sinister laughter filled the air as they were swallowed by the dust.

* * *

There was a sudden, erratic knocking on the door. Frisk snapped awake, grasping the bed sheets around them.

“Mama says I need to give you your wakeup call!” hollered a small voice from the hallway.

Untangling themselves from the bed sheets, Frisk rose from their bed and slowly placed their feet down on the shaggy orange carpet. The gentle knocking continued. With light chuckle, Frisk pulled their on their long blue sweater from off the table. As they draped it over themself, static kisses sparking across their chest and shoulders. Frisk opened the door, revealing the enthusiastic knocker. A small white rabbit-like creature gazed up at them with glee.

“hee… your hair’s funny.” The small creature giggled before scampering back down the hallway. A blush stretched across their cheeks as Frisk patted their hair down, expelling the static.

Turning back to the table, Frisk placed the rest of their folded clothes under their arm. With their free hand, Frisk pulled open one of the table drawers and admired a few things they’d been gifted: a wooden comb, cinnamon-scented soap, a tarnished pocket watch, three handmade hair ties, a mint colored toothbrush, and two changes of clothes, among other things. Grabbing a couple items, Frisk sauntered out of their room, across the hall, into the inn washrooms. A sweet little smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. The tokens of their new life in the underground filled them with determination.

* * *

Turning the shower off slowly, Frisk watched the water drip off their dark hair onto pools of water on the tile floor. They thought fondly of the aged claw-foot tub in Toriel’s bathroom for a moment before picking up the pocket watch from the shower stall shelf. Frisk wiped their thumb gently down the fogged clock face. With a stark gasp, Frisk began hurriedly putting on their clothes, every bit of fabric refusing to co-operate with their damp skin. Once dressed, Frisk quickly attempted to towel dry their hair before resolving to just tie back as much of it that could be tied back.

Frisk rushed out of the inn, scarfing down a day-old cinnamon bunny. The snow crunched under their boots and the wind pushed them faster toward the ‘Librarby’. Panting and dusting crumbs from their face, Frisk entered the small library. The green lanky lizard-monster attending the front desk peered up slowly to give the human a disapproving look.

“Sor—“ The words became stuck in like peanut butter glued to the roof of their mouth.

“S-S—“ Frisk’s eyes slowly met the ground.

“It’s fine… just. Just start sorting these.” The lizard librarian said, trying to still sound miffed. Frisk nodded rapidly.

The librarian went back to sifting through requests and overdue notices as Frisk eagerly carried a stack of books toward the shelves. Setting them down with care, Frisk plucked one off the top. They cracked open its yellowing pages, breathing slowly to take in the charismatic smell of the book. Frisk briefly checked over their shoulder to see if librarian was paying attention, before turning to page 7. Quietly enchanted by the literature, they would occasionally skim a book before placing it neatly in the shelf. Picking up the next book, Frisk closed their eyes and let out small sigh. Organizing books alongside errands for the librarian kept Frisk busy and out of sight— they were very grateful for that.

* * *

As the day hummed on, Frisk noticed another lizard-monster looking through the shelves. Frisk watched her scan each row carefully, only pausing now and then to pry a book from the shelf and skim the back cover. Several minutes later, they started toward the front desk, balancing a stack of weird comic books. Noticing the librarian was absent from his post, Frisk rushed to the desk; it seemed the stout yellow lizard wanted to take out the whole series. Trying to help the eager reader set the stack down, Frisk took a glance at the mystery lizard. Large, cute eyes peered from behind round frames. Noticing their stare, the lizard gave a short gasp and stumbled backward, sending the stack of books crashing to the floor.

Frisk and the clumsy lizard shared a wide eyed gaze for a moment before she abruptly scrambled out the door. Frisk sighed, looking down at the kaleidoscope of comics scattered across the dingy, pale floor. Picking up the fallen comics, they discovered a small black note book. Gingerly slipping it into their pocket, they grabbed an armful of the weird comics and headed to the graphic novel section. Placing the books down by the shelf, Frisk glanced momentarily at their pocket watch. They rolled their eyes as slid the first of the many books into shelf.

* * *

As the short hand on the watch finally hit six, Frisk put away the last few of the comics and headed to the front desk. The librarian seemed to be hastily writing something down, though Frisk couldn’t see what. The library was empty save for a few kids sitting around the table, studying for a science project. Their quiet murmurs filled the building, joining the other whispered secrets that dwelled in the library. Frisk gently tapped the pads of their fingers on the desk, waiting patiently. The librarian glanced up and paused his scribbling.

“Just one moment.” he said, shuffling around behind the desk. The lizard quickly produced 120G, plinking the coins into Frisk’s open hand. They smiled at the librarian, putting their wage into the pocket. Frisk then pulled the lost notebook from their other pocket, gently placing it face up on the desk.

“Oh, that’s Alphys’… Frisk, be a dear and run it down to the laboratory in Hotland when you have time.” The color drained from Frisk’s face as they slowly returned the small notebook into their deep pockets.

“s-see you t-t-tomorrow.” They said with a voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

Exiting the library, Frisked fondled the notebook in their pocket contemptuously. Looking up, they spotted Monster Kid leaning against the corner of the library, waiting for them.

“Hey dude! Wanna go prank the lesser dogs?” Monster Kid asked, bouncing up and down slightly.

“Sure.” Frisk replied through a soft smile.

“This is gonna be. So. Great. I can’t wait to tell all the kids at school!” Monster Kid said, elated. Frisk felt their shoulders relax; Monster Kid was often waiting outside for them these days.

Looking left and right attentively, Frisk followed Monster Kid through a hastily cut path in the trees, down to the doghouses. The path winded and curved so much Frisk wondered if lead to anything at all. Above them, the thick shaggy branches blocked out most of the sky, making the trek feel all the more ominous. Frisk placed their boots into the Monster Kid’s footprints, trying to mimic her jaunty, uneven stride. Caught up in the placement of their feet, Frisk didn’t notice Monster Kid had stopped.

“Oof.” Monster Kid mumbled. She turned back to face Frisk for a moment, before resuming to inspect a seemingly important a clump of snow.

“Okay. So. Here's what we’re gonna do…” Frisk leaned in close, a mischievous smirk growing on their face as Monster Kid whispered her grand plans.

* * *

Sopping wet and wreaking of dog residue, Frisk and Monster Kid stepped into the greasy coziness of Grillby’s. As the pair sat down at front bar, the leathery red seats squeaked defiantly under their wet pants.

“Hey Mr. Grillby! Two milkshakes! ... Please!” She called out. Then turning to Frisk, she whispered,

“Dude… my treat, okay?”

“Ok-kay.” Frisk couldn’t refuse such a kind offer. They turned their head to the side, looking over at Monster Kid. Her relaxed yet cheery disposition put Frisk at ease; it was a relief she didn’t remember anything from the first time they met. Catching pieces of casual conversation, they faced opposite way to observe the other monsters. Frisk admired the scene; the orange light of the restaurant caused all the evening customers to appear like a large family gathering for dinner. Laughter and the clatter of dishes filled the room like warmth from a fire. Caught up in the sentimentality of it all, Frisk thought they smelled the aroma of fresh cinnamon butter scotch pie wafting through the air. Suddenly, they noticed two pin-prick eyes staring at them from across the room. They apprehensively met Sans’ gaze, but he did not look away or make any effort appear like he was staring by accident. Frisk began to ponder the implications of the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ but was interrupted by the sound of two glass vases of creamy goodness being set on the counter.

“That skeleton is so weird yo.” Monster Kid remarked, noticing the stare down. Frisk turned away and nodded apprehensively before sticking their straw into the shake.

* * *

The jagged evening breeze caused both their faces to redden as Frisk walked Monster Kid home. Behind them, the light of Grillby’s neon sign flickered off. Snowdin felt more solemn in the evenings, as if the town were exhaling at the end of a long day. Suddenly, Monster Kid broke the crisp silence.

“Have you ever seen the stars?” She asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Frisk didn’t respond, but it didn’t deter Monster Kid.

“One day, we’re all gonna get out of here. And then I’m gonna sit under the stars and eat rock candy! That’s what humans do right?” Frisk laughed a little.

“We d-d-d-on’t usually… eat r-rock cand-dy.” Frisk stammered out with a sheepish smile.

“Oh! … Well you’ll show me what people do when they look at stars, right?”

“Y-yeah. Of c-course.”

“Sweet! Well, g’night dude!” Monster Kid said before nudging open her front door. Once she was inside and the latch of the door made its distinctive ‘ _click_ ’, Frisk headed back down the snowy path. Small flakes of snow drifted down, occasionally stirred up by a gentle wind. It reminded Frisk of the shed, though this place was a lot homier. The golden glow from the windows cast welcoming tiles of light onto the snow. This light expelled from the homes promised all those who stayed here safety; no foul or unruly beings made their homes in this place. _Not usually._ Frisk shuddered and let out a long breath before turning the corner.

“hey kid, c’mere.” A voice called out. Frisk ignored it, moving hastily past the front of Grillby’s.

“c’mon kid, throw me a bone.” The voice called again, losing its patience.

Their feet moved faster, trying not to break into a run. Frisk was just nearing the town’s decorated tree when a large boney hand grasped back of their shirt, pulling them against side of Grillby’s.

“ **Listen kid. I don’t know what kind of joke this, but I don’t find it funny**.” Grabbing them by the shoulder, the skeleton swung Frisk around to meet his gaze. It was the Sans. The familiar pinpricks of white had vanished from his eyes. Frisk felt tears pricking at their own eyes.

“ **What sort of game are you playing at?** ” Frisk didn’t answer.

A somber silence hung over them, neither of them wanting to be the next to speak. Eventually, Sans’ loosened his grip on their shoulder. Frisk instinctively pulled back and turned away, continuing back to the inn.

“ **Kid, I hope you're not looking to have a bad time.** ”

They checked over their shoulder to see if Sans was following them, but the skeleton had already vanished.

* * *

The warmth of the inn lobby greeted them like an old friend. Drained and damp, Frisk meekly slid 80G onto the front desk and went upstairs. Fumbling with the lock of their door, Frisk pulled their other sleeve close to their nose and sniffed. It still smelled of wet dog. When the key finally turned, they swung open the door and sulked across the room. Frisk yanked on the string of temperamental the lamp, who responded by flickering a few times before turning on. With the room lit, Frisk shed the smelly clothes onto the floor. Rid of their soggy constraints, Frisk let out a lackluster sigh and flopped onto the bed. They splayed their arms and legs and stared up at the dimly lit ceiling. The room was silent save for the rhythm the pocket watch and the hum of the light bulb. Frisk placed their hands softly on their forehead, wishing they had never run away.

They reached under the pillow, grabbing their cell phone. Frisk dialed Toriel’s number and listened eagerly for a response, but it was the same as every night before: no answer. Rolling on to their side, Frisk looked resentfully at the dirty pile. Reaching precariously from the edge of the bed, they grabbed the notebook from the pocket of their pants. The bottom edge of the notebook was now warped from being wet. Furrowing their brow, they cast the notebook onto the nightstand. Frisk had been determined to travel no further than Snowdin, but it seemed they could no longer quarantine themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Woo! We've hit 5k words!  
> Thank you so so much for reading! And thank you for any kudos!  
> Please leave comments/suggestions/ideas if you have any!  
> I don't know when the next chapter will be up— I'm still playing around with the order of the plot from here.**


	4. A House Isn't a Home.

In that moment, the world was still. Snowflakes fell quietly and the wind did not make a sound. Sans watched the human walk back to the inn, their hands clasped on the hem of their long sweater, tugging it downward.

“ **Kid, I hope you’re not looking to have a bad time.** ” Sans called out before slipping into another incorporeal gap. Shortcuts were like free-falling for a moment; terrifying and exhilarating. In a way it was cheating, but sometimes that’s just what has to be done.

* * *

 

He landed in the upstairs hallway, catching himself on the railing. Standing up, he grasped the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes. If Sans was honest with himself, he would admit that he had absolutely blown it. Instead, Sans blamed his blunder with the human on their abilities; they obviously knew something he didn’t. They knew this would happen. Whatever.

Pulling his bent key out of his pocket, he unlocked his room. Sans sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. Thumbing the edge of his coat apathetically, Sans looked out window. The world was like a stage, winds whistling at the snow’s sultry performance. He was just about to go downstairs for some snacks when Papyrus burst into his room.

“SANS WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT OPEN THE GARAGE. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE CAPTURED THE HUMAN!” Papyrus said triumphantly before disappearing again.

“wow. that’s great papyrus.” Sans replied halfheartedly. He sat staring at the wide squiggly pattern of his carpet for a few second before a realization poured over him.

“wait… papyrus!” Sans called down the hallway, but Papyrus was long gone. A feeling of dread swept over him. Sans zipped up his jacket and tossed off his slippers. Grabbing his sneakers, he shoved them on without tying them up and darted down the stairs and out the door. Running across the snow-covered street, he jumped into a shortcut and out into a pile of snow. Sans bumbled around for a few moments before dusting himself off.

Peering through the trees, Sans could hardly make out the two combatants. Their figures were like ghosts re-enacting ancient battles, though Sans couldn’t make out who was hitting who. He felt nauseous. For a moment, Sans considered shortcutting his way to the core and messing with the dials so daylight would reveal the battle— it wouldn’t be the first time he’d tinkered with the core. Sans squirmed and flinched at every faint movement the two made. Everything inside him screamed to end the human right where they stood, but he couldn’t. Sans promised the lady he would watch over the human. So he stood in the trees, watching, cursing nervously.

To Sans’ relief, he saw human fall to their knees and collapsed into the snow. Papyrus picked up the human’s limp body, carefully lifting it over his shoulder. Sans crouched low in the underbrush and held his breath as the two audacious fighters passed him. The human’s soul could be seen flickering in their chest, like a broken light bulb.

Sans waited patiently between the trees. A human that determined would certainly be back. Sans leaned back and looked up into the pitch black sky. Though it couldn’t even really be considered a sky, it was more of a thick blanket of earth encasing them. The snow began to fall softer as the wind mellowed and the night air was now pungent as if someone had doused the world in mouthwash. Sans watched, entranced as the flakes wafted from side to side before joining their kin on the branches of the trees. Raising the palm of his hand, he caught a wandering snowflake, allowing it to rest in his palm. With a short breath, he sent the flake tumbling to the ground. Sans crouched down, leaning his spine against a pine trunk. Tilting his head up, he let out a long breath and allowed his eyes to drift close.

* * *

 

The grey morning light pried open Sans eyes. Jerking himself awake, snow slumped off his head and shoulders. The tranquility of the morning sickened him. Sans despondently grabbed the branch of a pine and pulled himself up. The ground was glittery and seamless. Looking at the road, Sans exited the trees. He looked down the path for any signs of a scuffle, but all footprints had been erased.

Sans walked the road back home, something he hadn’t done in a while. Approaching Snowdin was like watching a painting, each hazy brush stroke of color slowly transforming into buildings and residents. Seeing the tiny town in the distance might have brought him solace, but instead sand felt detached; there was truly no place he craved to see. After all, no matter how far he traveled, he would always end up back here.

Sans peered into the windows of his shed, cupping his hands around his eyes. No unconscious human. No Papyrus. Just a dingy bowl and dust covered pillow. He franticly continued to the house. After fumbling for his house key, he dug it into the lock only to find that the door was already open. He momentarily considered not going inside; ignorance is bliss. With anxious dread, Sans stepped into the door way.

“papyr—“ He looked to the living his room, mouth hanging ajar.

“SANS! YOU’RE FINALLY BACK! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I NEED TO INTRODUCE YOU TO MY TERRIFIC NEW FRIEND, FRISK.” Papyrus said excitedly, turning away from the television. The human turned to face him as well, their small lips curving into a sheepish smile.

“WE ARE HAVING A ‘HANGOUT’, WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN US?” He continued. Sans was speechless, absorbing the sight.

“THOUGH, WE ARE ONLY WATCHING RERUNS. SURPRISINGLY, THE HUMAN, ER— FRISK HAS SEEN NONE OF THEM!”

“maybe some other time. i’m heading to grillby’s.”

* * *

 

The days went by easier after that, and it was simpler to keep an eye on the human. They would often come over to hang out with Papyrus. The two would watch new episodes of MTTTV or work on puzzles together. Sometimes Monster Kid was with them, sometimes not. Sans kept his distance, but occasionally would watch them from the couch. It seemed easy to appease the human, as long as they were happy the timeline would progress forward.

It had been a particularity long day and Sans was horrifically bored. Papyrus and the human were lying on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling, their unsolvable puzzle beside them. Sans got up slowly from the couch, kicking on his slippers. As he turned toward the door, the human shot up. He looked over at them. Their bangs were long now and brushed behind their ears, but their eyes were still as empty as when they first arrived.

“you want somethin to eat too?”

They got up, stepping softly toward the entrance.

“you want anything papyrus?”

Papyrus, deep in thought, did not flinch.

He opened the door, releasing the human outside, and then closed it quietly behind him. The human stood beside the doorway, shuffling their feet back and forth. It was as if they were waiting for him to do something. Sans was overcome with a sensation of uncertainly radiating from the human. He eventually stuffed his hands in his pockets and began walking toward Grillby’s. The human followed right behind him like an odd duckling. It was strange to think that everything depended on this small hesitant human.

* * *

 

The smell of grease and meat cascaded over them as they entered Grillby’s. Sans took headed toward stools at the front, hoping to avoid eye contact. The human sat on the stool beside him, placing their arms on the counter and laying their head in the thick yellow knit. He glanced over to see that they were still looking up at him with those wanting eyes.

“i guess your short on cash. that’s fine. it’s on me tonight.” He spoke coolly, as if it was his plan all along to pay for them. Frisk gave him a smile and propped themselves up off the table. Shuffling around in his pockets, he placed 103 gold, a button, and some lint on the counter. Returning the excess to his pocket, he waited for Grillby.

“two small fries for me and my pal.” Grillby counted the coins, giving Sans an incredulous look. Sans shrugged, slightly ashamed.

Waiting for the food, he watched Frisk. There was nothing particularity malevolent about them. In fact they simply looked tired. Suddenly, Frisk jolted up from the counter. Mumbling incoherently, they rushed out of the restaurant just as two plates of fries slid across the counter. Sans sighed, turning back to the plates of fries. He eyed the ketchup for a moment before turning to Grillby.

“do ya have any paper bags?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot about this fic. It's been over a year. But I plan to see it finished, no matter how long it takes.


End file.
